


Love Since the Beginning

by noctuua



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 11:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctuua/pseuds/noctuua
Summary: “[A] part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star”.Emery AllenYou and Hotch will always find each other.





	1. Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If you look at my other work, you’ll see I just started a different Criminal Minds fic ft. Hotch/OFC haha. I’ve had a month off after finishing school and I’ve watched seasons 1 through 5 in the span of a week (it’s one of those shows I can rewatch over and over again). 
> 
> This idea popped into my head and I needed to write it out! 
> 
> At least one of the future chapters will have explicit sexual context so I’ll change the rating as needed. The team (Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Garcia and JJ) will only show up in this first chapter.
> 
> I feel like I’ve read a book or watched a show/movie with a similar storyline, but essentially the main characters are in love and live many lives and always manage to find each other. If anyone knows where I got this from, please tell me!! I’m dying to know haha. It’s a bit reminiscent of _Black Mirror’s_ season 4 episode, _Hang the DJ_.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter has some gore at the end, so readers be warned. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! :-)

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_   
_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May_   
_Well I guess you'd say_   
_What can make me feel this way?_   
_My girl (my girl, my girl)_   
_Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl)_

Bliss. Pure bliss. You lay your head on Hotch’s chest and can hear his heart beating steadily. You breathe slowly, in and out, and try to sync your heart to his. Your bodies sway to the rhythm of the music, Hotch with one arm around your waist, the other caressing your hand. 

The music changes and the wedding guests join you on the dance floor couple by couple; you spy Garcia and Kevin and JJ and Will dancing nearby and Prentiss, Morgan, Reid and Rossi grooving to the side. You’re so unbelievably grateful that your team could be a part of this moment. Your family. 

The remainder of the night passes quickly. The cake cutting, the bouquet toss. People don’t head back to their rooms until sunrise. Your cheeks are rosy from the champagne and your belly is full with cake but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than with your friends. Hotch has smiled consistently throughout the day, you think his face must be sore using muscles he’s unaccustomed to. When you finally head to bed, you’re both so exhausted you don’t even remove your shoes. You fall asleep on top of the bed covers, buttons and zippers half undone, your fingers threaded together.

Your flight to Hawaii leaves at 11 in the morning and you’ve barely made it onto the plane when Hotch’s phone begins to ring. The second he answers, you turn around and exit the plane. You throw him a knowing look over your shoulder and grab his hand. This is why you and Hotch work. You go to inquire about your luggage while he runs ahead and hails a cab. By the time you’ve caught up with him, he’s waiting by a car, trunk wide open. He holds his hand out towards you, grabbing yours when you’re close enough. For just a moment, he basks in your beauty; your breathlessness and ruddy cheeks, your bun falling loose, hair tumbling over your shoulders. Hotch kisses you slowly and deeply, caressing your tongue with his own, sucking at your bottom lip. You wish you’d had more time alone. You both get into the cab.

The case takes the team to Boston and you’re there for about two weeks when you finally find your unsub. The night you’re supposed to arrest him, you feel so sick you’re forced to head back to the hotel. You try to sleep but you can’t stop worrying about Hotch and the rest of your team. Prentiss, Reid, JJ, Rossi. You hate that you can’t be there with them. Even one less head can be detrimental to a raid. The pit in your stomach grows, a deep-seated heaviness rooted in the very depths of your being. You drift in and out of consciousness and don’t notice the balcony door sliding open.  
_______________________________

Hotch knows there’s something wrong the moment they enter the unsub’s house. No one has been home for hours. Penelope finds a photo of you on his computer. You’re not answering your phone.

He kicks down the door to your hotel room and finds you on the ground in a pool of your own blood, the balcony door standing wide open. Hotch rushes to your side, hands grasping at your neck to try and stop the bleeding. You’re still alive, just barely, choking on your own blood as it sputters from between your lips. You’ve already lost too much blood and Hotch’s hands keep slipping, the warm liquid squelching through his fingers and seeping through his clothing. He lets out a ragged sob as you bring a hand up to cup his cheek.

“I’ve never fel—“ 

You choke.

“Don’t!” Hotch cries. “Don’t speak, the medics are on their way.”

You try to smile.

“I’ve never felt more loved,” you rasp, tears flowing down the sides of your face. Your hand slips from Hotch’s cheek.

“Find me.”


	2. Summertime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I cried while writing this lol.

_”A soulmate is not found. A soulmate is recognized.”_

_Vironika Tugaleva_  
_______________________________

A knock on your door jars you from your slumber and you roll over to face the intruder, rubbing groggily at the sleep in your eyes. Your mother’s kind face peers in through the doorway.

“Time to wake up, sleepy head,” she sings, her voice gentle and melodic. You yawn, small arms stretching above your head.

“10 more minutes?” You whine, yanking the duvet over your head.

“Don’t you want to see what your present is?” She laughs.

You recall the previous weekend and the card you’d received from your parents for your 10th birthday, promising a gift that you wouldn’t forget. You pull the cover slowly down your face, eyes peering over the edge.

“Really?” You squeal excitedly. 

Your parents blindfold you and settle you into the car. The drive takes about 15 minutes, a quick journey, the air practically vibrating with your anticipation. Your mother hums along to a song on the radio.

_I've got so much honey the bees envy me_  
_I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees_  
_Well I guess you'd say_  
_What can make me feel this way?_  
_My girl (my girl, my girl)_  
_Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl ooh)_

When you arrive at your destination, your father helps you out of the car and you’re bombarded by smells and noises. You hear dogs barking and you clap in excitement.

“Can I take it off?” You ask, fingers twitching to remove the blindfold. You hear your mother laugh. 

“Go for it, kiddo,” your father responds. You can hear the huge grin in his voice. You remove the blindfold and run inside. 

In the center of the shelter is a playpen filled with puppies. They howl with excitement at the appearance of a new face, mirroring your own feelings. You stick your fingers through the holes in the fencing and giggle as they lick you, their tiny tongues wet and wiggly, mouths teething at your hand. 

One dog sits towards the back of the group, a black lab puppy with short, thick hair. He watches as you pet the others, tail wagging slightly although he remains on the edge. You find something familiar about his brown eyes.

“That one,” you say to your parents as you gesture towards the puppy. They approach and share a glance.

“You sure, sweetie?” Your mother asks, her voice questioning.

“Yeah,” you reply immediately without a second thought. 

“What’re you going to name him, bub?” 

You contemplate it for a moment and then it clicks.

“Hotch.”

“Hotch? Is that even a name?” You hear your father whisper to your mother.

“I think it’s a wonderful name, sweetie,” she says, nudging your father in his side. He laughs in response.

As soon as you’re home, you bring Hotch up to your room, the puppy clutched under your arm, fluffy tail bouncing with each step. Once in your room, you shut the door and sit on your bed, placing the dog in front of you. You stare at him and he stares back. 

“I know you,” you whisper, confused. Hotch sits there patiently, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You scratch behind his ear and he leans into your touch, back leg thumping reflexively. You giggle and lower your face towards his, gazing into his eyes. How can a dog’s eyes be so wise? So deep?

You rest your forehead against his and it all comes flooding back. _You know him._  
_______________________________  


Hotch lives for 14 long years. He never leaves your side.

He’s there for you through everything. The start of high school, your first “boyfriend”, your high school graduation. Hotch bites Danny’s legs the first time you kiss and the boy never speaks to you again. You forgive Hotch.

When you move away for college, you cry yourself to sleep every night in the weeks leading up to your departure. Every moment with Hotch shatters your heart into pieces and he tries his best to put them back together. He accompanies you to the airport with your parents and the sobs wrack through your body so hard you think they’ll never stop. You have to leave him in the car and you can still hear his howls as the elevator doors slide shut.

The summer before your junior year, you move into an apartment with your girl friends and beg your parents to let you bring Hotch with you. They agree begrudgingly. You’ve never seen his tail wag harder.

He sleeps on your bed every night for two years and then you meet Dean. Dean’s handsome, intelligent, sweet and hardworking—everything you could possibly want in a partner, except for that no individual could ever possibly fill the space in your heart that Hotch holds. You settle with what you have. Hotch is no longer allowed to sleep on the bed. Dean tells you there’s not enough room. He’s getting old and his joints are getting weak, you tell yourself.

His first night on the floor, Hotch whines so much that Dean puts him out in the kitchen. You wait for him to fall asleep and then cry until there are no tears left. 

You and Dean wed a month after your 23rd birthday. Hotch is the ring bearer, the bands fastened to his collar with a long, white ribbon. He sits at the edge of the dance floor during your first dance with Dean.

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_  
_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May_  
_Well I guess you'd say_  
_What can make me feel this way?_  
_My girl (my girl, my girl)_  
_Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl)_

You can’t stop the tears that leak from your eyes and you sniffle into Dean’s jacket. He asks you what’s wrong and you tell him you’re just happy. Hotch watches. 

Your first house has two floors but time gets the best of Hotch and he’s no longer able to climb up the steps. He spends his days sleeping in the sitting room, happiest when you go on your morning and evening walks together. He’s slowing down and the grey hairs that spatter his fur are becoming more prominent. 

At 4am exactly a year after your wedding, Hotch passes away with his head cradled in your lap. As he draws his last breaths, you lie on your side and pull him into your body, your face pressed into his soft fur, damp from your tears. 

You’ve never felt a pain so deep. You cry yourself to sleep. 


	3. Hair of the Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I needed to write something happier and smuttier after the last chapter haha. Kudos and comments are always appreciated :-)

_"I’m convinced my heart knew who it belonged to, long before I met her."_

_Karla Campos_  
_______________________________

Much to your chagrin, your friends decide to to plan a trip to Miami as a sort of college graduation celebration. One night at a dinner, you tell your best friend you have an internship lined up for the summer that you need to prepare for and don’t think you can go.

“Bitch! You’ve been working your fucking ass off for 4 years, you deserve a break!” She says incredulously. 

“I don’t know, Sarah,” you respond hesitantly, chewing on your lip. “I really d—“

“Doesn’t your internship start in, like, June?” She’s asks, staring you down.

“Yes,” you respond, smiling sheepishly.

“Okay great, so you have more than a week off before it starts! You’re going!” She exclaims, hands clapping together. 

“I fucking hate you,” you laugh, flicking a bean from your burrito at her forehead.

“I’m glad we could come to this decision together,” she says, picking the bean up from the table and sticking it in her mouth. You fake gag.  
_______________________________

Drinking really isn’t your strong suit so you start the week in Miami off lightly, just a couple drinks in the afternoon, maybe one or two in the evening. Your friends can handle a lot more and spend their evenings drinking and dancing the night away with men who want to take them home. Some of them succeed.

You’re definitely not judging, but one night stands have never really been your thing. You’ve had a few flings, but no one has ever really felt _right_. Right as in you can be utterly and completely yourself around them. Right as in you know them and they know you. You’re becoming convinced that you’ll never find that person. 

Halfway through the week, you start drinking a bit heavier and staying out later. You spend Wednesday on a Booze Cruise sipping piña coladas as you lounge on a unicorn pool float. The DJ begins playing oldies and the music drifts through the air.

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_  
_When it's cold outside I've got the month of May_  
_Well I guess you'd say_  
_What can make me feel this way?_  
_My girl (my girl, my girl)_  
_Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl)_

As you’re finishing your fourth drink, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end, a shiver rolling up your spine. Goose bumps rise to the surface of your skin and you feel eyes on you. You glance around the immediate area but don’t notice anyone watching you. You chalk it up to the cool breeze and ask Sarah to go inside with you. The feeling ebs but doesn’t fully go away.

You spend Thursday morning and afternoon in your hotel room, curtains drawn and air conditioner blasting, the throbbing in your head almost unbearable. A liter of water, 4 ibuprofen and 6 hours later, you emerge from your room and join the girls for dinner. A beautiful Italian meal followed by lots and lots of drinking.

_Hair of the dog_, you think.

Surprisingly, or maybe to no surprise at all, drinking helps dull your hangover. 3 drinks in and you feel the most normal you have since waking up. The girls make you promise you’ll stay out as long as they do on your final night in Miami. You’re not keen on keeping your promise but you’ll try. This trip hasn’t been as bad as you expected. In fact, it’s felt nice to throw caution to the wind and relax for once. 

Around 1 in the morning, you approach the club’s bar to order another drink but find a man blocking your path. Well, not really a man, he looks more like a boy, you note.

You try to side step and go around him, but he steps directly into your path again and you look up at him impatiently, arms crossed. 

“Excuse me,” you shout over the loud music.

The boy shoots you a smile, one he probably thinks is charming but comes off as predatory. You eye him warily.

“Baby, baby,” he soothes, leaning in too close for your liking, his lips brushing your ear. “You don’t gotta go to the bar, I got you a drink right here.”

He shoves a glass towards your hands but you step back quickly. The mix of alcohol and heels doesn’t help and you stumble a bit in the process. 

“No, thank you,” you mumble, attempting to step around him again. 

“No need to be a bitch about it,” he growls, pressing his body against yours. You bring your hands up between your chests in an effort to push him off, shuffling backwards in the process. As you try to move away from him, one of the heels of your shoes gets caught on a floorboard and you feel your body falling towards the ground. It happens in slow motion. There’s a tingle at the base of your spine and your stomach drops, the way it would at the top of a roller coaster.

A warm hand presses itself against your lower back, catching you as you fall and pushing you upright. You look to your right to see a tall, handsome man with his arm around your waist, glaring at the boy in front of you. You’re frozen, stuck in his grasp.

“There you are,” he murmurs, lowering his head towards yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ve been looking for you.”

His voice is deep and runs straight through your core. Heat pools in your abdomen and your knees tremble. The autonomic response that your body has to his voice is astounding.

The man turns back to the boy whose face is turning a dark scarlet. 

“Did you need something?” He asks. The boy looks like he wants to respond but decides against it. A wise decision. He storms off.

You finally get your whits about you and you shift your body away from the man’s, turning to face him fully. The alcohol in your system causes you to sway and his face is a bit blurry.

“Do I know you?” You ask, leaning towards him to get a better look at his face. You squint your eyes but it doesn’t help. He smiles at you in response. 

“There’s something...about you,” you mumble. “Something familiar, but...we’ve never met?”

The man brings a hand up to caress your cheek, his movements slow as if he doesn’t want to frighten you or scare you off. You don’t flinch as his warm skin meets your own. There’s a dull spark somewhere in the back of your mind. Your name drops from his lips and it sounds like a prayer.

“How do you know my name?” You ask, brow furrowing even as you lean into his touch. He doesn’t respond.

“What’s your name?” You try again, your body slowly inching closer.

“My friends call me Hotch,” he replies, running his fingers through your hair and tucking a strand behind your ear. You feel like you’re having some sort of fever dream. Your body is melting into his, merging.

“I know you,” you whisper, but you still can’t place it. You press your lips to his, just a soft, quick kiss, and it hits you. The knowledge sobers you up in seconds and you quickly wrap your arms around Hotch’s neck. 

“Hotch,” you sigh, pulling him down again to kiss him passionately, tongues battling for dominance, teeth clacking together. You’re desperate for his touch even as he presses you up against a wall, hands roaming your body. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. Impatient, you drag him towards the bathrooms.

Checking that there’s no one in any of the stalls, you throw the lock, Hotch pushing into you from behind, shoving you into the door. You can feel the bass of the music reverberating through the hard wood. Using one hand to sweep the hair away from your neck, he grips your waist with the other, anchoring you to the spot as he grind his pelvis against your ass. You moan, pushing back against him. Hotch mouths at your pulse point, sucking and kissing at the delicate skin. He feels the vibrations of your groans as they work they way up your throat and he catches them with his lips, pressing them to yours in another kiss.

Hotch spins you suddenly, lifting and carrying you over to the sinks. He places you on the counter, hips wedged snuggly between your thighs. He kisses you again, pulling back to look deep into your eyes.

“I knew you the moment I saw you,” he murmurs sweetly, cupping your cheek with one hand. 

You lean into his touch, eyes closing as tears begin to well. 

“How could I forget?” You sigh. Hotch wipes the tears away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Even if you do, I’ll always find you,” he promises. 

You pull him into a kiss, rough and needy, pressing your entire body into his, almost like you’re trying to become him.

The cold, hard marble presses into your ass as you slide closer to him, his hands urgently pushing up your skirt. He caresses you through the thin fabric of your underwear, feels your heat and ruts against your thigh. 

Undoing his jeans, you massage him and he groans against you, the guttural noise of a starving man. You free him from the confines of his briefs, hot and heavy in your soft hands, stroking him and thumbing at his slit. His head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed.

You slide closer, batting Hotch’s hands away, you push your panties to the side and grab Hotch’s straining cock, lining him up with your entrance. His hands move to grip your hips and he pulls you forward, sliding easily into your hot, wet cunt. You gasp, palms gliding over his chest and over his shoulders to clutch at his biceps. You can feel the constriction in his muscles as he holds most of your weight. With each thrust, Hotch grinds his pelvis against yours, hitting your clit at just the right angle to make your jaw drop and your eyes roll. He catches your moans as they fall from your lips and revels in the bounce of your breasts as he fucks you. 

The heat in your belly blooms, spreading through your nerves and each of your limbs like a wildfire. A tingle builds at the base of your spine, growing until it consumes you, your muscles spasming, back arching. You feel Hotch’s thrusts become more erratic as you constrict around him. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough that you know there’ll be marks for days. His hips stutter against yours as he spills inside of you. His head falls against your shoulder, thick, soft hair tickling your cheek.

Hotch peppers your neck with kisses before pulling back, slipping out and leaving you feeling empty. There’s a massive hole in your heart that only Hotch can fill, but it’s okay because he’s here now. 

You fix your underwear as he helps you down from the counter, adjusting your skirt in the process before redoing his jeans. You smile up at him with adulation and can’t help but think how lucky you are to have found each other once more.

Heading back to your hotel, you grip his hand tightly, as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear before your very eyes. You fall asleep wrapped tightly in his arms, head resting on his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as you drift off, eyes drooping. You sleep.


End file.
